


Needing is One Thing

by Pastel_Teacups



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Angst, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-21
Updated: 2016-02-21
Packaged: 2018-05-22 12:03:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6078642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pastel_Teacups/pseuds/Pastel_Teacups
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And getting, </p><p>getting's another.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Needing is One Thing

**Author's Note:**

> Title from OK Go's song, "Needing/Getting."

Han’s completely and utterly _pathetic_. 

Luke is strong and bright and _kind_ , and though Han’s never particularly been any of these things he feels especially weak, especially dim, and especially bitter after the carbonite. 

And he’s in love. 

If he had any strength left to be disgusted with himself, he would be. 

Nobody but Lando talks to him about it. Nobody but Lando _knows_ , aside from Chewie, but the Wookie has enough sense in him to not bring it up. Lando, apparently, doesn’t. 

“You love him,” he says while Han is still recovering, while his eyesight is still fuzzy and he’s still heaving into a trash bin every half hour. “Don’t you?” 

“Not to burst your bubble, Lando, but I’m not exactly in the mood to go along with your delusions.” He says, because denying is what he does.

Lando looks at him with eyes that see too much of Han. “Don’t do that. I’m not stupid. I see your face, when you look at him. I know you, Han.” 

Han can’t tell if the churn in his stomach can be attributed to the six months trapped in carbonite or the three years spent at Luke Skywalker’s side. “Maybe I do.” He relents, leaning back in his bed. He’s stuck there, for the time being, medical droids buzzing endlessly around him and occasional pity visitors. “So what? He doesn’t love me.” 

“That can’t be true.” Lando argues, offering Han the whiskey he isn’t supposed to be having. 

He takes a long swig, shrugging. “Maybe he did a few years ago, on that stupid desert planet. But things change, Lando. Jedi - they can’t have relationships.” 

Realization dawns on Lando’s face, and he leans forward with a not-quite pitying expression. “ _Oh_ ,” he murmurs, pushing a hand through his hair. “Stars, Han. What’d you get yourself into?” 

Han shrugs, lifting the whiskey bottle in a sad satire of a toast. “Well, you know me. Always getting myself into something I can’t find my way out of.” 

Lando looks at him for a few moments, eyes sad. “No relationships. Maybe smugglers ought to adopt that,” he murmurs thoughtfully. Han nods. 

“Well. Sure as hell would’ve made my life easier.” 

\----

When Luke shows up to the celebration, after all is said and done, he looks changed. 

He hugs his sister tightly, blue eyes bright and _so sweet_ as he tightens his hold on her like he may never see her again. Then he’s letting go and moving toward Han, and he guesses they both look like they skipped the giddiness of victory and moved straight into mourning. 

“Hey, Luke,” he murmurs in the kid’s ear over the sounds of celebration, arms tight around him because he _doesn’t want to let go._

But he does, with the biggest smile he can muster, and lets his hands fall to his sides before they can reach out for Luke again. 

At some point he finds himself somewhere quiet, and sits heavily on the ground in some vain attempt to gather his thoughts. 

Of course, they slip out of his grip the moment he hears Luke’s voice. 

“Han?” 

He’s never felt so weak. He wonders if it’s one of Luke’s Jedi mind tricks. 

“Luke,” he greets, forcing his eyes up to look at him. 

In the darkness, with the moon’s light radiating off of him, he looks like an angel. 

Now, he’s strong enough to be disgusted with himself. 

Luke steps closer, carefully, like Han’s a wild animal that will bolt at the first sign of danger. Really, it’s not too far-fetched. “What are you doing here? I figured you’d be with the others, celebrating.” 

“Shouldn’t _you_ be celebrating?” He asks, doing his best to tease. To be normal. To not be in love. 

“I’m not in much of a celebrating mood,” he admits, and lowers himself to sit beside Han. “What about you?” 

Their legs touch, stretched out in front of them. Han swallows a lump in his throat that _really_ shouldn’t be there. “No. Maybe it’s something about the last time me and Lando celebrated, and he lost the Falcon. I guess I’m just not willing to risk her for a few cheap shots of whatever’s on this planet.” 

Luke laughs, the sound genuine and ringing, and when Han turns his head to look at him he sees every last star in that smile. 

Before he can think, he’s leaning forward and pressing his lips to Luke’s. 

He can feel Luke’s surprise in the stiffening of his muscles, in the way one slim hand comes up to rest against Han’s shoulder without pushing him away or pulling closer. 

Luke breaks the kiss. Han would rather let himself be eaten alive before he has to open his eyes. 

But he does. He opens his eyes, and looks at Luke. 

His eyes are sad, pitying. “Han-” 

“Don’t.” He breathes, because he isn’t sure how many of Luke’s words he can take before he breaks. 

Luke closes his mouth, reconsiders, and then opens it again. His hand hasn’t left Han’s shoulder. “The Jedi Code-” 

“I know.” Han murmurs, but this time it isn’t harsh, just reigned. “I know about the Jedi Code, Luke. It’s okay.” 

He pulls himself up and walks away, ignoring the whisper of his name Luke leaves in his path. Whatever he wants to say, Han’s sure he couldn’t bear it. 

_It’s better this way,_ he tells himself, wiping his eyes and ignoring his stupid aching heart.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Comments + Kudos are always appreciated! I also have a [Tumblr](http://little-floral.tumblr.com/) if you'd like to come and say hello!


End file.
